Things Better Left Unsaid
by DizzyAlice
Summary: There are certain things you just don't tell anyone. Not even your best friend, or your mom, or your girlfriend. These secrets affect who we are as a person, often controlling at least a small piece of our lives. And no one even knows that they're there.
1. Kyle

_Things Better Left Unsaid  
Story One: Kyle_

A/N: Before I get started I have to ask you guys a huge, huge favor. Okay so you know my friend SpazzKitty that I mention like all the time? Well for my birthday last month she wrote me this AMAZING Bunny fic that is so great especially seeing as it was the first piece of South Park fanfiction she ever wrote. The only problem is she won't post it D: BUT! She said that if I can get at least one of you guys to send her a message asking her to post it then she will! So if you do that for me I swear I will love you forever and ever~ =D  
Anyways onto more relevant information! Yes, it's true, I'm back. A full two weeks early, too =) Ahh NaNoWriMo was a fail. But enough about that, I'm sure you guys don't care.  
So about this story! This is going to be a collection of one-shots centered around one main topic: Secrets. I've been thinking a lot about secrets lately and how much they define a person's life. This was also partially inspired by the PostSecret Project (if you don't know what that is, either ask me or Google it). I know I already have a fic called "Secrets" but this will be way better I promise!  
All the "chapters" will be individual one-shots. Some of them relate but not all of them which is why this isn't technically a multi-chap. Here's the characters and pairings I already plan to write, but if there's another one not on this list that you want me to do feel free to tell me and I'll definitely consider it =)

Characters: Kyle, Stan, Craig, Clyde, Tweek, Wendy, Cartman, Kenny, Butters.  
Pairings: Style, Candy, Stendy, Creek, Cryde, Kennyx?

So yeah I really enjoyed writing this first story and I hope that you guys like it =) It's definitely the most lighthearted out of all the stories, but I have big plans for this project.  
And if you're wondering about other projects I'm currently working on check out my profile, there are summaries.  
I don't own South Park or Romeo and Juliet (which I may or may not have quoted in this particular chapter...)  
Enjoy and please review!!

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_"I'm in love with my best friend. It's the only thing about me that he doesn't know."_

Hell.

Hades.

Abysmal pit of never-ending pain.

Chemistry.

Whatever you prefer to call it, it was pure torture for me. Not because I was bad at it – on the contrary, if anything it was too easy. Sitting in an undersized desk in an overcrowded classroom listening to a crazy, boring teacher drone on and on for two hours straight wasn't exactly my cup of tea. Instead this left me with a terribly long time to space out and become distracted by the fact that Stan was sitting in front of me.

I was developing some sort of sick obsession with that boy's neck. The back of it, mind you. Maybe it was because when I found myself slouched over in my seat it was directly eye-level with me. Nevertheless, more and more I began studying it rather than my notes. The beauty in something so simple.

The gentle curve where it met his shoulder. The longer strands of his shaggy black hair brushing against olive-toned skin. The way the light gave it a soft glow on the right side. How it changed and lengthened when he tilted his head, resting it on the palm of his hand.

_Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!_

I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch it – his neck, that is. It was all I had to stop my hand from making that simple movement.

These were the lengths of my addiction to my best friend.

I know I've been acting differently around him lately, and I know he's started to notice. It's not like I've ever been a terribly good actor in these kinds of situations – that's more of Cartman's area of expertise. But luckily for me, Stan tends to be incredibly dense when it comes to these sorts of things.

Besides, he's so in love with his girlfriend he wouldn't even notice if it was a girl who was crushing on him like this.

Besides, he's always said how I'm one of the straightest people he knows, so I think it would come as a major shock to him that I switched teams for _anyone_, let alone him.

So I figured I was pretty safe. As long as I never, ever told him about this, he wouldn't suspect a thing.

"Kyle. Ky-llle." Fingers were being snapped in front of my face. I jolted back to reality to see not the back of Stan's neck, but rather, his face, wearing a wide grin. "You were spacing out again. What's wrong, am I _distracting_ you?"

"Yeah, right. This class is just so damn boring I can't pay attention."

"I know." His focus was drawn from me for a moment as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, fingers flying across the keys before putting it away again. Texting Wendy, undoubtedly.

"I swear, that girl is like a drug for you."

He scoffed. "Not exactly. I could easily live without her. _You_, however… that's a different story."

My heart started double-time. I easily returned the smile he was sending my way.

"Oh, Stanley, you flatter me."

"Only speaking the truth. Who else would I have sleepovers with, and complain about Wendy when she's being a bitch, and tell my deep, dark secrets to?"

I pretended to think this over for a minute. "Sparky?"

"Dude, contrary to popular belief, I don't actually have conversations with my dog. Besides, he doesn't give nearly as good of advice as you do."

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. Sparky does seem like a pretty intellectual creature. Compared to you, at least."

He laughed. "You're such a jerk. Sorry that we can't all be geniuses like you, Ky."

My face heated slightly at the use of the nickname. He would never know how much better my name sounded on his lips.

"Hey, I am hardly a genius. I barely scraped a B+ on my last French exam."

"Oh, a B+, oh no, that's so horrible," he mocked.

"Shut up. My parents lectured me for an hour."

"Aw, does poor widdle Kylie need a hug?"

"And you say _I'm_ a jerk?"

Stan laughed. "Relax, I was kidding. Unless you want to take me up on that offer?"

_Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes_

"I think I'll pass, man. Maybe some other time."

"Boys," interrupted the voice of the teacher. "Your attention, please."

Stan rolled his eyes at me. I grinned as he reluctantly turned to face forward again.

I figured I should actually try to pay attention to the teacher for once. God forbid my grade slip below a ninety-three.

She was going over naming ionic compounds for the billionth time. I already knew how to do this. To me the words sounded vaguely like this:

"Blah blah something about permanganate boring blah blah."

It's no wonder why it's so hard for me to stay focused.

Okay, Kyle. Let's do this. Permanganate.

Perstanganate.

That one is definitely my favorite polyatomic ion.

Now the teacher was talking about something involving boron.

"You're a boron," I heard Stan mutter. I couldn't help but snicker. He turned his head just enough that I could see him grin and wink at me. "You, too."

"Yeah, well, you can just go fluorine-uranium-carbon-potassium yourself." His eyes were blank with confusion. "Chemical symbols, Stan."

He looked up at the giant poster of the periodic table hanging above the whiteboard, taking a few minutes to decode my message.

"Such language, Kyle. Oh, and besides, that's what I have you for, dear." His lips stretched into a wicked grin.

My face started burning – if it wasn't red as a tomato right now, it'd be a miracle. "Y-yeah, well," I sputtered, scrambling for words. "Wouldn't you rather have Wendy do that?"

He scoffed. "Please. Like she'd let me."

"You two haven't…?"

"Nah. She's more prude than she seems. I'm not one to push her if she doesn't want to, but still…"

"Sucks, man." Though secretly I was sort of relieved that Stan and Wendy hadn't slept together. Maybe there was hope for me yet.

I really needed to stop thinking these things, because I always ended up getting let down.

"See, this is what I love about our friendship. We tell each other everything. I'd never be able to talk about that with anyone but you." Stan smiled.

My stomach knotted up in guilt. I felt really bad for not telling him my secret, but just imagining how he would react, what he would say, scared the hell out of me. Enough that it quelled any sort of desire that I might have had to open my mouth about the whole ordeal.

"Yeah… everything."

He gave me a weird look. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Really, nothing."

"You do know you can tell me anything, right, Ky? No matter what?"

"Yeah, I know." I plastered on a fake smile. "I know. After all, what are best friends for?"

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A/N: I just have to say really quick please pardon my awful Chemistry jokes xD I wrote the majority of this during that class and I felt the need to throw them in there somehow.  
Reviews make me happy ^_^


	2. Kenny

_Things Better Left Unsaid  
Story Two: Kenny _

A/N: Umm the only reason I'm posting this is cause SpazzKitty made me D:  
I wanted to try writing something in second person POV so I did. Enjoy, and reviews are love.

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_"Every time I die, I become a little less human."_

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

You tripped over your own feet and fell off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic. It was a matter of seconds before you were turned into a bloody pancake on the asphalt.

You go to heaven that time. You're not quite sure why, but you've found it better not to question these things anymore.

Being flung back and forth takes a lot out of you and by the time you finally get back to earth, you have energy only to collapse on the ground and black out. No one seems to notice or care that you're around again.

When you wake up you rake your fingers through messy dirty blonde hair and a single white feather flutters to the ground, triggering a vague memory of wings attached to your back. Large useless things mostly for decoration.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Your parents were arguing again. What a surprise. Mom grabbed the first thing that her hand came into contact with – the broken toaster sitting on the counter – and flung it at dad. It collided with your own head instead.

You slumped to the ground as the blood welled up and the screaming around you failed to cease.

It's all fire and brimstone this time. Hell really isn't as bad as they say, though. Satan is a pretty cool guy as long as he's not dealing with relationship problems (which more often than not he is).

You wake up in your own bed and would like to pretend it was all a dream, some sick twisted nightmare, but the singed sleeve of your parka is an all too prominent reminder.

You go to school. No one acknowledges you were gone.

Your mother doesn't apologize.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

This time it's a result of the stupidity of your friends. It all happened real fast, it was somehow that fucking fatass's fault, though you're not entirely sure how. A sharp pain and then it's black.

It stays black, almost like you never actually died. Oh, if only, if only.

The world could be built on wishes and if onlys.

Your friends greet you and continue on to their next brainless adventure without another word on the subject. You sometimes wonder why you call them your friends.

You follow them aimlessly, an empty shell. Not quite human. A ghost of the boy you once were. This is what constant dying does to a soul. Every time it rips a tiny shred off, just a little, until slowly there is nothing left.

You are deteriorating right in front of your own eyes, and yet no one else seems to see it.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Your brother is drunk. You're trying to drive. He is distracting you. Shut up Kevin, you say. I can't fucking concentrate.

A patch of black ice makes you spin out and pretty soon oh look, you've hit a tree head-on.

Your brother miraculously survives.

If you hadn't met God so many times in one of your many trips upstairs, you wouldn't believe that the bastard even existed. Even still you don't like the thought of him, seeing as you seem to only live to be his toy to break over and over again until there are too many pieces and it's impossible to put you back together.

Like humpty dumpty, you've fallen off your damn wall too many times to count.

Sometimes you think that humans are more fragile than eggs. The cracks are always there. Usually they're only on the inside, but they're always there.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

You're drowning, lungs pierced by icy cold water. You're beyond caring. You don't bother struggling against the murky depths that reach up to swallow you whole. It's not like anyone else will notice, let alone care about your disappearance from the world of the living.

The light slowly fades from your vision and you think, with the water muffling all sound around you, that this is the most peaceful you've felt in years.

A hand wraps tightly around your wrist, pulling you back out of the water. You are coughing in the air, wondering why the hell anyone would bother saving you, the boy who was doomed from the start.

As the excess water pours out of your mouth you look into the face of your savior and you wonder just how much of your shredded soul is left.

And then you wonder just how easily someone can sew your soul back together. You think that maybe all the king's horses and all the king's men maybe should have tried a little harder and used some stronger glue.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Everything's going to be just fine.


End file.
